Catch Some Wide Eye

Art of the Heart

thick globs of paint
cling to the hairs of my brush
forming a colorful paste
that eases with squirming lines
onto the page.
i crinkle my nose.
never quite straight enough.

i dip my hands into the colors,
making fists to squeeze out the tints,
stroking the page,
patting it, rubbing it,
so much more loving that way.
i blow on it softly,
urging it to dry,
only to coax another layer over it
and another.
it dries hard beneath my hands;
i heft its weight.
so many hues, reds, pinks, and blues.
the massive scene of color
makes no sense to my eyes
but only to my heart,
my hands.
i see you there,
buried underneath layers of paint
too numerous to count,
and a small, silent tear meets you there.


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